


A Night of the Past

by Honnari



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Gore, But don't worry bout that, Eventual Comfort, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Kakuzu's lowkey nuts, M/M, Not Beta Read, Past Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honnari/pseuds/Honnari
Summary: Kakuzu recalls the night of his betrayal vividly.
Relationships: Hidan/Kakuzu (Naruto)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	A Night of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for these two, and while it isn't entirely focused on them, I hope neither of them feel too OOC. Have no clue where I got the motivation to write something like this. Maybe I just like seeing my favs suffer.

It was dark. Dark and cold. The concrete beneath his calloused skin was damp, whether it was due to blood or water he would never know. The walls were lined with the pleas of those left to rot, and dried blood lay in the cracks. The sound of dripping water rang throughout the prison. No one ever left. No one did. They would never be the same person, so there was no point in trying to return to a normal and sane life. All that could be felt was despair.

Kakuzu’s body was motionless, the pain agonizing yet numbing at the same time. His stomach growled, and his ears were filled with static. His face and body were caked with dried blood and sweat, making it look as if he had been mangled. His mind felt empty, completely void of thought. His eyes were clouded, making it hard to see who or what was around him. Severe trauma caused it, his brain reminded him. He didn’t care. At this point he’d rather be dead.

Kakuzu kept his entire being as still as possible, not wanting to irritate his new gashes and cuts. They trailed all across his body, like he had been put through a shredder and stuck back together. He could remember the feeling of their tools penetrating his skin, leaving bloody trails all over his body.

His fingernails were ripped off, his skin burned and torn apart like paper, his bones broken, his joints constantly scraped against the concrete. 

They  **gutted** him, showing him what his insides looked like, making sure to keep him alive. He’d seen the inner workings of human bodies before, but seeing his own innards was surreal. They made him drink his own  _ blood _ . It almost felt like a bad dream. 

A medic ninja was always there to heal him, keep him alive so he could experience the pain day after day. The nin’s eyes were filled with  _ pity.  _ Kakuzu didn’t want pity from a  _ coward _ . 

Despite his experience, it was excruciatingly painful. His face was the worst. They didn’t heal that. No. They made it a point to clean and disinfect it, getting all of the dirt and blood out of the way. But the openings were still there. The skin and flesh were gone. His teeth and gums were visible from the sides of his face, all the way up to his ears. A glasgow smile, they called it. Even put a mirror on the floor of his cell to make him look at it. Kakuzu tried not to care.

The pain and suffering he felt transitioned into anger. Anger and resentment towards those who put him there. The village elders looked at him with contempt and disgust upon his arrival. His old classmates treated him like dirt. The village people that once gave him smiles looked down upon him. They treated him like scum. Like the lowest of the low, like he couldn’t murder them all in a heartbeat. They acted as if they never knew him. All because he couldn’t kill the  _ God  _ of fucking shinobi. 

It was  _ infuriating _ . He couldn’t stand the looks of pity his fellow prisoners gave him either. They acted as if they  _ cared. _ They clearly didn’t. They were glad someone else was around to take the heat for once, redirect the attention from them.

The night he escaped was the most satisfying moment of his life. Watching his captors die beneath him gave him a sense of justice. The life leaving their eyes was beautiful. He made it a point to free the rest of the prisoners too. He hated them, but why not? Let them wreak havoc upon the village, see if Kakuzu cared.

Kakuzu killed everyone who stood in between him and the scroll. He could easily kill anyone in the village without it, but he wanted the power. He knew if he wanted to be truly strong, he’d have to take a shortcut or two. True power was never _earned_. It was given, born into.

He craved the faux immortality the jutsu offered. He wanted to live eternally, to spite those dying at his hands. He wanted to outlive Hashirama. He wanted to watch the life seep from the eyes of those around him, leaving him the only one standing.

He stood upon the roof of the elder's offices. One of the tallest buildings in the village, giving him a view of his handiwork. The sight of the village burning in such a manner almost made him doubt his decisions. _Almost._ He’d been forsaken and betrayed by everyone burning alive. They deserved it. Kakuzu bit back a laugh at the thought. Perhaps that prison truly did make him go insane.

He made sure to kill the village elders in the slowest ways possible. He enjoyed watching them struggle, desperately calling for help from their dead guardsmen. Kakuzu felt the last bits of sanity snapping little by little. The manic smile on his face was only heightened by his scars. He’d never smiled in such a way, but damn, it felt  _ good _ .

Kakuzu watched the man under him grapple at his hands and wrists, desperately trying to pry them off of his fat neck. He was barely strong enough to make Kakuzu feel any pressure. How pathetic. Why in the hell did he ever look up to the bastards? Kakuzu let him steal a few breaths of air to keep him alive longer, to make him suffer. He could feel the new hearts in his body pounding erratically in excitement. His hands gripped tighter.

“Kakuzu!” The bastard called out to him in a choked voice. “Kakuzu! Kakuzu!” It repeated. The voice wasn’t right. 

“KAKUZU!” He blinked. Under him wasn’t the village head he resented.  _ It was Hidan _ . His manic smile fell, and his heavy breathing became suffocating. Kakuzu, releasing the zealot’s neck, recoiled onto the balls of his feet. Kakuzu desperately tried to catch his breath. Hidan coughed and sputtered, the color slowly returning to his face.

“What the fuck is with you?” Hidan asked, his voice scratchy. Kakuzu wiped the sweat from his head, trying to formulate some kind of thought. His mind was scrambled. Hidan looked at him, wanting an answer, but upon noticing the haunted look on his partner’s face, he faltered.

Hidan should have been pissed, but he looked at Kakuzu worriedly. “Shit, c’mere.” Hidan whispered, kneeling to pull Kakuzu into his chest. The miser was still trying to catch his breath, but he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Hidan. Just how long had he been choking the other for? Were those bruises on his waist and arms? His ribs too, they were covered in deep purple bruises too. 

**What the hell did he do?**

Kakuzu’s breathing soon evened out, his mind finally catching up to the situation.

So this is what a hug felt like. It was nice.

“Sorry,” Kakuzu mumbled, his voice slightly muffled. Kakuzu never thought he’d find himself apologizing to anyone. Hidan only stroked his hair in response. He pulled the two of them down onto the bed again, Kakuzu still buried in his chest. His hands glazed over Hidan’s bruises. “Did I?” He mumbled out again, still finding it hard to speak. His throat was dry.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hidan pleaded, holding him tighter. “I’ll be fine.” He assured Kakuzu. The older man knew that. He knew Hidan would heal, but he still tried to kill him.

“I don’t know what happened, but I know you didn’t mean it,” Hidan spoke softly, his hand still stroking his partner’s hair. Kakuzu appreciated Hidan’s lack of questions. The idiot knew when it was truly time to keep his mouth shut, thankfully. “Just know I ain’t gonna leave ya.” He added quietly, hand squeezing Kakuzu’s shoulder. Kakuzu was almost horrified with himself. Did Hidan realize the amount of anger he just exerted onto his body?

He’d been violent with the man in the past, yes, but only twice had it been with the intent to kill. That was when they first met. He’d never so much as thought about getting rid of Hidan since then. Kakuzu wondered how someone like Hidan was so forgiving. He felt as if he didn’t deserve the foreign kindness. The last thing he wanted was for the zealot to abandon him.

Kakuzu had realized a long time ago that Hidan was beginning to force one of his only fears to the surface. To see him as something worth  _ discarding _ . It had been decades since he was betrayed, and yet he still feared that he wasn’t good enough for anyone. That his loyalty would be misplaced, or that he would trust the wrong person. He feared that Hidan would become one of them.

“Oi, just go to sleep,” Hidan pulled on his ear. Kakuzu  _ hated _ taking commands from him. But he was too exhausted to care right then. He could put up with Hidan’s smug face rubbing it in the next morning. 

The miser buried his head in the zealot’s chest, his body relaxing after some time. Hidan was still stroking his hair as he felt sleep take over once more. 

Kakuzu slept, his dreams silent and empty.

…

_ Hidan didn’t sleep. _


End file.
